Ten
by webdlfan
Summary: D/L story set in the future ... when one man damages their near perfect life, how can they work through the nightmare? Rated T because of the crime, only to be very cautious and safe, only referred to. Theme is obviously 10, 10th story completed.
1. Chapter 1: First and Ten

I do not own any of the characters besides Kaley ... and what is she without her parents?

* * *

_Ten_: 1st and Ten, Chapter 1:

Lindsay set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table and plopped back down on the sofa beside her husband. His arm fell around her shoulders as he took a long drink. She took a moment to look around at the little scene. Their living room was smaller than what they'd had in their apartment, but it opened up into a nice patch of yard already equipped by the previous owners with a play set. The sunlight filtered in through the windows and doors, gleaming across the hardwood floors and wooden pieces she'd had shipped long ago from Montana.

"You two were screaming babies. So what happened?"

"The Patriots scored two touchdowns. Sent us into a tailspin."

"In five minutes?" Lindsay lifted her brows doubtfully.

"Amazing turnaround."

The corner ticker popped back up. The score was still seven to zero. She elbowed her husband in the ribs. Sitting in Flack's lap, her daughter Kaley let out a delightful squeal and clapped her hands at her father's exaggerated grunt, then loud, smacking kiss he bestowed on Lindsay's temple.

Lindsay laughed—and looked to Flack for answers.

"We fumbled—nearly lost the ball, barely made the down," he said and grinned at Kaley when her focus switched to him. "First and ten, 32 yard line."

"See, now that's helpful."

"Helpful would you having remembered to bring in more drink."

"I got the popcorn."

"You lost the bet."

Only because she'd been paying more attention to her daughter when she made the bet, but she didn't argue the point. Instead, Lindsay patted the palm of her hand on Danny's thigh. "You'll live."

This was what she'd dreamed of as their life—a Saturday as a family in their new house, with or without Flack, Louie, or anyone else dropping by and hanging out. A football game on the tv, a comfortable sofa.

And sunlight streaming in from their backyard.

She'd loved living in the middle of the city, apartment life, for nearly eight years, but things slowly changed and it had become more of a sense of surviving the city instead of living within it. They had plans for a growing their family, of having room to play and grow, a yard … time off … and so much more.

They still worked in the city, and could hop the train and subway to get anywhere. They were closer to Danny's parents, and could drop off Kaley if their job called them in the middle of the night, which was rare now as their family life was taken into account.

His arm still around her, Danny leaned up and grabbed the popcorn bowl, setting it in his lap.

"Hey—she got that for me."

"Get your own," Danny tossed a couple of kernels at Flack, causing his daughter to let out her delighted squeal all over again.

"It _was_ mine."

"Your own wife." Danny threw another piece at Flack and watched his daughter open her mouth for him—which led him to throw more.

No one was watching the game anymore. Lindsay observes the three of them, much as she would a criminal, simply sitting back for a moment to pay attention. She let the others take the lead. The popcorn dropped onto the floor, which was another mess to clean up—but one that could be cleaned up, so she said nothing about it. Instead she enjoyed it.

The day, the laughter. She enjoyed it all.

Danny and Kaley never got the popcorn into her mouth, not by way of the tossing game, but Kaley enjoyed what she picked up off of Flack, and fed him some real, and some pretend popcorn, dialoguing as only a two year old could, about the importance of eating it.

Lindsay watched their friend placate Kaley with a lot of affection in his gaze. And as always she wished for him to find someone who would give him that family he so obviously craved.

"Mommy!" Kaley squealed then and pointed at Lindsay.

Danny grinned and fed Lindsay popcorn, too.

All in all, the popcorn game didn't last too long. Kaley became fascinated in Flack's phone, and then tired out a little, allowing the adults to turn back to the game.

Seven to three, Giants still winning—which meant they'd missed the field goal that had put the Patriots on the board.

Still, Lindsay glanced back at Kaley who had leaned her head on Flack's chest. Big brown eyes stared back at her, tired now.

"Mommy." Kaley slid off of Flack's lap, and landed barefooted on their hardwood floor.

Danny lifted the popcorn bowl as his daughter attempted to climb up, then helped her with a a one armed lift. He watched with a slight smirk as she crawled across his lap and into her mother's arms.

Kaley placed a finger on Lindsay's nose, her eyes so very serious. "Nap."

Lindsay smiled and hoisted herself up with her daughter in her arms. "You boys enjoy the quiet. I've got a date."

"Bye, Kaley."

"Flack, come back," Kaley waved with a weary gesture, in their own little private game. As Lindsay turned around with her, Kaley put her head on her mother's shoulder and tucked her thumb into her mouth. They headed upstairs for a little mother-daughter nap ritual.

Soon, Lindsay knew, Kaley would evolve into a daddy's girl … or grow completely unsettled with laying down for a nap. They wouldn't have these moment to whisper secrets that made sense only to a two year old and maybe her mother, little babbles and word games, when their was more energy, that they had learned to play together.

Lindsay walked into Kaley's room and stretched out with her daughter on day bed that was in her room. Kaley rested her head on her mother's shoulder and mumbled something around her thumb even Lindsay couldn't understand … her brown eyes already dropping. Lindsay watched, completely in love.

And just let herself enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2: Second Down

I do not own any of the characters besides Kaley ... and what is she without her parents?

* * *

Ten: Second Down

Chapter 2:

Danny shut the front door behind Flack and walked back through his house to the living room. The game was still on, the Giants still winning—but just barely.

He glanced at the game and sighed. So much for a family game day.

They looked forward to days that began like this one, even before Kaley arrived in their lives, but since making the decision to buy a house and move—they'd talked more and more about lazy Saturdays as a family. Even then, they'd known the days would end up like this, more often than not.

He grabbed Lindsay's phone and headed up. He found her in Kaley's room, laying on the bed and watching their daughter. He leaned against the door jam and studied them. The mini-Lindsay, with her light brown hair, thumb in mouth, sleeping more peacefully than he had ever known her mother to do. He loved his daughter's big brown eyes and the round nose she took after her mother. She awoke to such curiosity and wonder.

He'd never known such love. For anyone. Or expected as much from himself.

Kaley was still very much his daughter, though, and more than because of the shape of her lips, forehead or feet. His own mother compared her antics with his—a hazard of needing her to watch over Kaley—only a hazard as he'd hoped to keep some stories buried. She was headstrong and had somehow been born with the innate ability to flash that Messer grin when she got into trouble.

While Lindsay, found a delight in all of his misfortunate childhood … incidents, she was much more resistant to the grin … now, more than ever, on both of them.

As fearful as she was of dealing with mothers, even today, she made a perfect one as a mother to their daughter. She still panicked, more than a little, at day care mother's day ins, and when they managed to get to their new neighborhood barbeque to find a half dozen mothers who were happy to meet another. Though she tried.

She might have bolted if his hand hadn't felt the tremble and tightened on her arm just in time.

But one on one in their own home, or anywhere with Kaley, Lindsay couldn't have been more perfect. She played, she read, and made voices … and she let some things go.

Now, he knew glancing at her phone in his hand, he would be responsible for the mess in the living room—or they might have a little fight in the morning. He wasn't adverse to fighting with her, but he found it less and less desirable a result with Kaley around.

Lindsay turned then and caught him watching. She stretched a little before slipping out of the bed.

"Hey."

"Hey," he didn't move, but let her come to him.

"Flack gone?"

"Yeah, he got called in," he handed her phone to her. "Whatever it is, he said to be prepared for one of us to get called in. You're up, champ."

She took the phone and sighed, before looking back in at Kaley. She leaned in against him as they watched their daughter together. They took the moment to just be, the three of them. He slid his arm around her waist, drew her close, and breathed her in.

This was his family.

Then her phone buzzed. She stepped back, glanced once more at Kaley, hesitant as always to leave.

"I got her," Danny reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then watched as she checked the call as she headed into the bedroom to grab her things. Then he took his turn, stretching out on the day bed and watched his daughter.

When Lindsay slipped back in to say goodbye, he simply turned his head to look up at her. She leaned over him and dropped a gentle kiss on Kaley's forehead, then ran a hand over her soft hair.

Kaley blinked sleepily and stared up at her mother. "Bye, bye, Kaylie girl," Lindsay whispered and gently touched her nose. "Mommy loves you."

"Mommy loves you," Kaley returned in a whisper around her thumb.

Lindsay grinned, the tradition between the two set. "Mommy loves who?"

Kaley pulled out her thumb and pressed her finger to her heart and stared up at her mother. "Me."

"How about me?" Danny asked.

Lindsay smiled at him and leaned down to touch her lips to his. "Mommy loves daddy, too. Remember to—"

"Put her in her bed if I get up, make vegetables with the pizza, and don't let her stay up too long playing poker," he grinned. "I think I got it down, Montana."

She smiled a sudden spark of sunlight. "You two have fun."

And then she was gone.

Danny turned back around to find Kaley's eyes slowly sliding closed as his wife headed toward a crime in the city.

* * *

Case in hand, Lindsay nodded to the officer on duty and dipped beneath the tape he held up for her. She looked around, as she walked through the door. The lights were off. She could see the flash of a camera and the movement of flashlights. Someone seemed to be setting up lighting in the corner.

"Lindsay."

She turned, and saw Stella walk over to her. "What's wrong?"

Stella frowned, then tried to shake it off. "Nothing … I guess I just expected Danny."

"He's not on call until tonight," she frowned when she saw the hesitation in Stella. "What's wrong?"

Stella sighed. "I don't think anyone can be ready for this." She jerked her head for Lindsay to follow, then turned around and held up her flashlight.

There, now spotlighted in the darkness, was the body of a little girl. Five, six tops.

Lying there … so still and lifeless. Like a little doll.

"Is this …" Lindsay stared at the little girl, the pigtails on either side of her head. She looked away, thinking of the other crime scene they'd been called to not a week before. She forced herself to push that one back as well, and looked at Stella.

"Allisha Dames. Reported missing three days ago."


	3. Chapter 3: Hesitation

I do not own any of the characters besides Kaley ... and what is she without her parents?

* * *

Hesitation

Chapter 3:

In her gut, Stella thought that the two cases of children were together. Both were brutal, both girls were young, but that's where the similarities ended. The girls looked different; one with brown hair, blue eyes, the other with green eyes and blond hair. The first had been stabbed, the second strangled.

_Children_.

Stella shuddered. There was still evidence to process, but so very little to go on. She could only hope the ME could find something. She pulled out her phone, called ahead and made sure the girl was placed in Sid's care, as the other girl had been. Then she called Hawkes. She would make sure he was assigned to this case as well. If anyone would take care, it would be the members of her team.

After the medical examiner's staff arrived to transport the body, Stella looked up to find that Lindsay had disappeared. Tugging off her gloves, she walked out the apartment door and found her sitting on the stairs staring at the locket she'd been given for Mother's Day. Stella knew what was in it without looking; a picture of Kaley, her eyes wide with laughter, ball cap on backwards and looking so very much like Lindsay herself. It was easy to see why Danny had picked that picture to put in it and why Lindsay treasured it.

The picture of Kaley was not alone. Lindsay had placed a photo of Danny, wearing a ball cap backwards in the left slot. With the two photos together, Kaley looked even more like Danny. Stella had watched Lindsay pull it place a kiss on the golden cover when things got tense in an investigation or when she was gone a long time from home.

"You okay, kiddo?"

Lindsay smiled softly and nodded slowly, still staring at the picture. "I'm sorry. I couldn't watch them put the little girl in the bag. It was just …"

"Too real?"

"Yeah." She shook her head. "It's not just a job when it's a child."

"No."

"She didn't even look real … maybe I can't make it real." Lindsay shook her head. "When I first got to New York, Danny and I worked a case where a doll doctor was murdered. All those doll faces lying there? Just staring up at you?"

"I remember that case," Stella let out a breath and nodded. "I was never into dolls."

"I don't know that I was either. Except … my grandmother made me this rag doll. Kind of like a Raggedy Anne with brown themed rags for the hair."

"And I bet brown eyes."

"What else? My Monroe clan is a consistent lot," she ran a finger over her own brown eyed beauty. "I've been thinking about that doll all night long. I called it Sue. Raggy Sue. She was so soft and when mama washed her she smelled … so good. Kaley needs a doll like that. Not one that looks real … that looks like that when it's just lying there."

Lindsay looked back into the room and bit her lip, obviously remembering how the little girl had looked, lying there, staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes.

"My gran can't sew like that anymore, but mom probably knows someone. I think I'll call her when … well, later."

Stella slid her arm around Lindsay and looked with her for a few moments at the sweet little girl in the photo. "Why don't you go on home? Get some rest, see your little girl. Call your mom. We're not going to get much more done tonight."

For a moment she looked like she was going to argue. The side of her that was ingrained to her job, to the little girl's case they had just taken on, against the mother inside. Finally, Lindsay looked over at her and smiled. "Thanks, Stella."

* * *

As Stella walked away, Linsay sat for another moment, listening to the familiar sounds of the crime scene around her. Then she slapped her hands on her legs and pushed up, gathering her supplied back into her case to go back to the lab with the team. She took it out, tucked it into the truck and nodded toward Stella who was talking to one of the officers, then she turned to head to the subway.

But momentarily, she stopped. The scene still gripped her heart. She needed to take a moment, leave it here at the scene instead of carrying it home. She turned back, walked inside.

She stopped and stared into the room, at the floor marked with crime tape. She waited, letting the moment settle. She didn't want to take it home with her. She breathed in and out, slowly, taking ten seconds to pull herself together.

Then she smelled it, the toxic smell, even as the world slid away.


	4. Chapter 4: Message Received

I do not own any of the characters besides Kaley ... and what is she without her parents?

* * *

Ten: Message Received

Chapter 4:

Only a few hours later as Danny headed up the steps, he heard the thump, than the patter of little feet breaking the quiet. He watched as Kaley walked out of her bedroom and stopped, looked around, as if she had so many choices of where she was going to go.

He smiled a little as he shook his head. She was tired and still fighting sleep. They'd played hard after her nap that afternoon. She had an affinity for bouncing her little ball against the wall outside and chasing it, while he shot hoops and sometimes joined her in those little games she seemed to make up in her head. They each had one way conversations with each other, because he certainly had no idea what she was talking about.

He opened the gate at the top of the stairs and went through. It was taller than their first one. They'd gotten it only a few weeks ago, when they realized their daughter was an escape artist. Sometimes when he shut it behind him, he could hear the prison doors sliding closed.

Lindsay claimed Kaley got her tendency to escape from him. He wasn't so sure. He'd remembered getting caught.

"All right, munchkin," he said as he scooped her up. "Where are you headed?"

"Mommy," the word was almost defiant.

"Mommy's not home yet, sweetie," Danny sighed as he carried his baby girl back to bed. "You know, your mother and I are usually pretty good at putting people behind bars to stay. That's where you're supposed to be. In bed."

She put her hands on his chest and pushed, her little face scrunched up. "No."

"Kaley."

"No bed—" and as he started to set her down in her bed, she grabbed onto his shirt with both fists and let out a piercing wail. When she'd let out her first similar noise in the delivery room, the doctor had only smiled and said, "healthy lungs, healthy baby."

Danny tried to remind himself of that as he winced. "Kaley, come on. We both miss mommy. She'll be home soon."

Danny sighed as she only screamed louder, the evidence of how tired she was only punctuated by the sudden appearance of tears. It was an action that tugged at Danny, as her mother cried so very little that he just didn't have experience with tears. Not from those usually sweet and curious brown eyes.

Or so he told himself as he cuddled her close and walked over to the rocking chair with her in his arms. In a quiet voice he began to sing, but she only cried harder. He winced and held a hand to the side of her head, gently cradling it against his heart as he sang.

Maybe his choice of Tom Petty wasn't the best for a toddler, but how could he think of anything else? He sang through _Free Falling _once, and then desperate enough, a second time. He was into the bridge before her cries turned to hiccups.

Then he switched to a little Jim Croce with _Hey Tomorrow_, and sang softly until he felt Kaley's breath even out as she finally gave into exhaustion.

For awhile, he just sat and rocked her, feeling the wetness of her tears through his t-shirt and the warmth of her little body, as he listened to the silence.

_She should have called._

He pushed back the concern. Lindsay would have, if she had been able to do so. He'd carried being on call during the night shift for a long time, so he knew what could happen. And he'd heard about the little girl on the news. He figured it was the case both Lindsay and Flack had snagged. It wouldn't be easy on her. And if she'd gotten pulled into interview, her phone would have been off when he called at Kaley's bedtime.

Still, he worried.

Carefully he stood and cradling his daughter, gently lowered her back into her little bed. As he leaned back, he was simply caught—for just a moment—looking at her. He reached down and brushed away the wet tears on her cheeks.

"Mommy loves you," he whispered, "and so do I. Never, ever forget that."

.

Downstairs, Danny tapped his phone against his palm as he paced his living room. With the house silent and Kaley finally asleep, his mind had gone on overdrive. Lindsay was fine. Someone would have called him if something had happened. If she hadn't shown up. If she was hurt. Flack had expected her to show up right behind him.

There were dozens of other reasons why she hadn't called.

He stopped and stared at the photos that hung in a group over his fireplace. The one he focused on was the largest one, from their wedding day. It wasn't a traditional photo, was more of a mistake, but the moment he'd seen it during the chore of going through the proofs, he'd itched to have a copy.

To remember the moment over and over.

Lindsay had argued against ordering it of course, more over the size of it than the content, or really the size of the content. He knew she didn't see what he did. In the photo he was looking at her as she was in the process of rolling her eyes, laughing at him as he struggled to make the photographer, his mother and her mother happy by giving them the right smile. He'd been told he looked guilty. When he'd said something about knowing what a guilty man looked like and it wasn't him, she'd snorted.

And it had all tumbled into place. She had pulled her bouquet against her chest. His arms were around her waist as he simply held the pose like he was told to do—well, and because he was enjoying it, enjoying her. Maybe he didn't have the right smile, but he had her. That had been his thought.

Moment captured.

Her father had stopped him after the picture had been retaken and said that he'd been unsure if Danny really loved her like he needed to … until that moment.

And that's what Danny saw when he looked at the photograph. He loved her. For all those crazy, heart stopping moments. Maybe she did look silly, but that was part of why he treasured her.

He tapped his phone again and looked down at it briefly before flipping it open. No one would question him calling just to check on her.

* * *

In the darkness of the morning, under the brightness of a street light, Stella watched Danny drop down on the front steps of the apartment building. He looked lost. Flack walked over from the other direction and sat down next to him. Neither said anything.

They had traced up and down the block, to the subway station. Back at the lab, one of the lab techs accessed Lindsay's MetroCard usage only to find out that she'd never made it back to the subway. So they'd gone back and traced her steps, knocking on doors where they could to see if anyone had seen anything. There were no 24 hour diners nearby, no all night movie theaters.

They'd found nothing.

Her cell rang and she pulled it out, grateful to see Mac had called her back. "You have something?" she asked, without preamble.

"No, I was just calling to see—but you would have called if you had found her." Mac's answer was short, clipped—frustrated. He'd been checking with local stations, cab companies, the hospitals, anywhere Lindsay could have been taken if something happened.

"How's Danny?"

Stella looked over at him, watched as his lips parted. He was thinking, not coming up with answers. It was a look she'd seen before.

"We've got to find her Mac." she said, in place of an answer.

Stella disconnected and walked over. Flack looked up at her, his face grim. Danny didn't move. She sat and slid her arm around him. "I'm so sorry, Danny."

"What? That you sent her home early just so she could see Kaley?" Danny closed his eyes. "She's … somewhere."

Stella nodded, but they both new the statistics, had both worked missing persons cases from the other end. She wasn't even really missing yet. Stella glanced at her watch.

"9 and a half hours."

"What?"

"Lindsay walked away from here just under ten hours ago."

.

Danny looked at his watch as well, noted the time. Just passed three a.m. It had been just less than 12 hours since she'd left home. He could still see her face as she leaned over him, saying goodbye to Kaley. Her hair falling around her face.

_Mommy loves you._

His mom had come over to watch Kaley when he'd come in, which made him think of Lindsay's family. "I need to call her parents. Do I need to call her parents? I—"

His phone rang, breaking his thoughts. It was Lindsay's tone, the pne he reserved for her. He jerked out his phone, flipped it open as he let out a nervous laugh. "Lindsay—where the—"

"_She's ready_."

"What? I don't—" but there was nothing but silence on the other end.

"What is it Dan?"

He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at the screen.

"It was some guy. He said ..." Danny felt his breath leave him. "She's ready."

Flack glanced at the phone. "He didn't hang up."

"I'll call it in," Stella pulled out her own phone, "get a trace on it."

* * *

It took them twenty minutes. Twenty precious minutes that felt like hours. Danny expected an abandoned building, a warehouse.

Instead they ended up in central park west, outside what had to of been a million dollar ground level suite. Danny let them push him back, but he stood behind Flack, his weapon raised.

Flack yelled out the warning, even as he turned the knob.

The door opened easily.

They swung in, ready.

"Danny."

Danny came around the corner and felt his breath leave his lungs. There she was, seated on the floor, her hands tied behind her back.

"Lindsay—" he rushed around Flack and Mac, and dropped to his knees front of her, set his gun to the side, even as he reached for her.

She had yet to look at him.

He placed a hand gently on either side of her face and brought it up to look at him. He searched her brown eyes. "Lindsay," he whispered. "Everything's going to be okay. Look at me, baby. Everything's going to be okay."

But as she stared at him, the look in her eyes was blank, distant.

He wasn't even sure if she saw him. If she even registered that he was there.

And then he saw it, the words printed in black ink across her forehead.

_Message received._

* * *

_Author's note: Okay … it's bad, I know. But there's a plan. I think. And if you would write a review, I might be inspired a little sooner … :p I can't promise anything though. This week's going to be crazy! But reviews might help. :p_

_Another note: This chapter was originally going to be called 10 hours. I kind of knew where I was going to get to this point, and when I realized when I read the name I saved it under "Ten4" that it was like the police code 10-4, which means "message received." Then, knew I had to get to this point and the name of the chapter was changed. Of course, you don't know what I know. Or what Lindsay knows._

_Anyway, the 10-4 … How cool is that? Okay, so maybe you can't celebrate with me yet—and I suppose you really shouldn't. :p _


	5. Chapter 5: Delay on the Relay

_Wow! Thank you so much for your reviews! They really helped me (and pushed me) to crank out this chapter! I wanted to get it done before the weeked, because though we have an extra day off, I have a lot of things to catch up on. Thank you so much!!_

I do not own any of the characters besides Kaley ... and what is she without her parents?

* * *

Delay on the Relay

Chapter 5:

The bindings around her wrists and her face had been photographed, capturing the bonds, the words across her forehead, and her haunted look forever.

"Ow."

Having cut away the rope, Danny brought Lindsay's hands around to her front and began to massage them. He grimaced at the ridges in the soft skin of her wrists and brought her hands up to kiss them. She stared down now, watching his hands or hers, he wasn't sure.

"Lindsay," he tried again. She still didn't look at him. Her face didn't even change. She just stared.

She was shaking from the pain, and though she had yet to speak beyond that one, very Lindsay _ow_, she kept looking over at the open terrace doors. Maybe it was just the street light on the outside that drew her attention. Maybe it was more. He massaged carefully around her wedding rings, trying to help her deal with the pain as blood flooded back into them.

People moved quickly around him, searching the suite, collecting evidence. He looked up, spotted Hawkes as he walked passed. "Sheldon?"

As his friend knelt at his side, he held up Lindsay's hands. "Stay with her a minute?"

"Sure, man."

Lindsay's frown when he transferred her hands to Hawkes reminded him of a tired Kaley, and gave him hope. Even if she didn't seem to recognize him, she recognized his touch. Danny pushed up and walked toward the terrace.

"Don't!"

He spun around at Lindsay's cry and saw the panic on her face. "Don't. Don't jump."

He glanced briefly over at Mac. "It's okay, Montana," he looked back at her, and when he met her eyes he finally saw recognition flash. "I'm just going to see."

She seemed to shake herself. "No …," she turned to Hawkes, her brown eyes wide and desperate. "He jumped. He said … he jumped."

"Lindsay," Sheldon continued to massage her hands and leaned close. "What did he say?"

But Lindsay only shook her head as she closed her eyes. "I don't know …"

Danny turned around as Mac joined him and they walked over to the terrace. "We're only on the first floor. She obviously … misunderstood."

"Or was led to believe different. There's a drop off our here," Mac stepped out first and studied it. "We can guess then, he exited this way. Makes sense, easy out, doors are open here, the rest locked from the inside. It wasn't something we didn't already know."

Except something had happened, something very bad, Danny thought as he glanced over at Lindsay. "A place like this, with ground level suites is going to have good security coverage."

"I've already ordered the footage removed."

Danny watched as the paramedics came in. "Mac ..."

"Focus on her, Danny. I'll get others out here to take evidence. We'll take care of the rest."

Danny nodded, "Thanks."

* * *

The hospital room was too quiet, too still. Lindsay ran her fingers over her wrist and turned her head on the pillow. The curtain was closed. It divided the room in half.

She couldn't breathe in the small space. Her mind circled. Words jumped out, but she couldn't process them. She couldn't stop them.

She rubbed the ridges that still ran on her wrist and winced. He'd tied her up. She remembered waking to panic, pulling at her arms as her hands had already lost their feeling. He'd noticed her moving. He'd laughed and she'd looked at him. The room was dark, so she'd only seen him in the shadows. He'd loomed over her, but he hadn't been a giant. He'd just been standing. Out on the terrace, the streetlight shined in.

Then he'd started pacing. He told her … Where was Danny? He said he'd be right back.

She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, sliding to the floor just as Danny opened the curtain. He smiled, but there was worry.

"Hey," he said—as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Where do you think you're going?"

_I'm not 5_, she wanted to shout as she stared at him. She swallowed back on the bubble of irritation.

His brow furrowed slightly in worry. "You all right, Montana?"

She wasn't angry at him, she remembered as she watched his eyes slant in concern. She wasn't angry at all. She watched him, a dozen words and thoughts rushing through her mind.

There in the dark, he'd started to talk. But the memory stopped, frozen inside. She couldn't beat the wall down. It wasn't like it just blocked the thoughts, it was more that the darkness surrounded her, closing her inside.

She looked at Danny, afraid. Now she thought not of the stranger, but of Danny. _Did he know? Could he understand? She hated herself. She wanted to scream. It would upset him. It would upset everyone._

_This couldn't happen again. Not now._

But even then, the blackness crowded in, making it hard to breathe.

As the worry on his face deepened, she realized she hadn't said anything.

"I'm fine," she murmured and mustered up a smile, trying for the one he liked the most.

He only nodded and reached for her. "Let's go home."

She nodded as he took her hand and led her from the hospital room. At home she could sleep. She wouldn't feel the pressure if she slept.

* * *

Lindsay was quite all the way home. He'd driven into the city, as in the middle of the morning it had been quicker, but on the way home, traffic moved at its normal slow pace. For awhile, he was relieved. It gave him time to just watch her, to make sure she was okay. He knew she'd pushed the experience back and she was worried that she couldn't retrieve it. Over the last few years, he'd caught on that as much had happened after the Montana murders.

Back then, she'd told the police everything, then pulled back only when confronted by the grief from some, the blame from others, and the anger that others didn't know how to hold back—all extreme emotions from mothers, that no one—least of all a teenage girl—knew how to handle.

Otherwise, she seemed fine. She was quiet, and her smile didn't reach her eyes, but she didn't flinch from his touch. Maybe her responses seemed a little slow, as if it took extra time for the words to travel around in her mind. The psychologist who had come over from the department and talked briefly with her had seemed to think it normal.

But he knew she wouldn't feel complete until she made it home to Kaley. Lindsay had been on her way home last night when she'd been snatched. He'd called his mother, told her they were on their way.

Danny frowned. She had managed to tell Mac she thought it had been right under their noses, at the crime scene. Those had been Mac's words, and he'd been disturbed.

How had the man slipped by them, with Lindsay in tow?

He smiled a little when he saw their house tucked in the long row with other houses along the long street. Old trees grew in the small plots of yard that were tucked between the sidewalk and front door. The fronts, once wood, were now covered with siding. The light yellow of their house had drawn them both, even before they'd stepped inside.

Danny parked outside, and watched as Lindsay slowly opened the door, moving like an old woman. He didn't do it often, but this time he came around and took her arm, helping her out of the car. They walked slowly to the house. In the window, he saw his mother standing there with Kaley, his daughter clapping her hands in delight as they made their way to the door. His mother looked worried, but unlike Kaley, she knew something was wrong.

He opened the door and Lindsay stepped in. His mother came over with Kaley, who cried with instant and utter delight, "Mommy!"

Lindsay stopped; a look of utter shock on her face. She stared at Kaley—fear, it _was_ fear—that crossed her face.

And then without so much as acknowledging her daughter, Lindsay turned away and slowly headed upstairs.

Danny watched, and then turned to take his daughter from his mother's arms, even as she continued to cry out—now in distress, a fearful cry, of question—for her mother.

"Mommy?"

Later, Danny, having just sent his daughter away to stay with his mother, walked in to find his wife stretched out on their bed. She'd pulled on one of his t-shirts that he'd dropped over a chair a few days ago after taking it off. She stared ahead, thinking, worried, trying to make herself remember.

He carefully stretched out on the bed behind her, and slid his arms around her, drawing her against him.

She lay still for a long time, her breathing regular, but not at peace. He knew she didn't yet sleep. He held on, and prayed, for he needed her back. He needed his family.

Finally, he felt her hands curl around his arms, as she lay there, lost in her own thoughts.

But she didn't sleep.

* * *

_Would love reviews, if you would like. I will say the last group really did encourage the words for this chapter to come out faster ... and encouraged me to try and get this chapter up. So if you want more ... wink wink. :p They are really appreciated!_

_Another note: By the way, police code 10-6 is Relay ... but Lindsay can't relay yet. So, yeah ... there is a delay. Next code, Busy ... I'll have to try and work that one in. :p I'm not stuck to that, though. Only to the theme of ten as a whole._


	6. Chapter 6: Ten Days

_Now adding Dr. Thurman to the characters you don't recognize. That, I suppose, makes him mine—though what I'm going to do with him outside this story, is anyone's guess :p … so now Kaley, and Dr. Thurman and the bad guy are the only characters I own (but I don't really want the bad guy) … the rest are not mine, belong to CSI NY creators, blah blah blah blah blah._

* * *

Ten Days

Chapter 6:

_Nine Days Later_

_Dr. Thurman's Office, Department-Approved Psychologist_

Lindsay sat across from Dr. Thurman, the upscale Manhattan psychologist whom had taken her case pro bono, as a favor to Mac and the department. The department psychologist had recommended him. She'd come to his office everyday, fully capable of negotiating New York City on her own, but incapable of being a mother or a detective. Mac had taken her badge, her gun. She knew he had to do it, that she was on medical leave. It would take Dr. Thurman's recommendation for her to get back to work.

His office proved his regular clientele had more money. He'd written a few books, had a few pictures on his shelf with celebrities, Oprah, Diane Sawyer, and others. From the dark woods, to the polished brass and bright, vibrant paintings, she could tell Mac had pulled some major strings.

She came in each day ready to get everything out, but ended up frozen, panicked.

Unsure of herself.

Yesterday, she'd come back later in the afternoon, needing once again to try. He'd seen her again, welcoming her in as if she was expected. They'd repeated the process again, done his exercises, played his games, and sat across from each other, waiting. She'd been so sure she could let it all out. She just wanted to hold onto her baby girl.

Lindsay's fingertips dug into the leather of the chair as she stared at him, once again, on a different day. She felt the pressure in her chest, even as he sat on the other side of his desk calm and collected. He looked like someone's grandfather, with the lines of age around his eyes and the thinning cap of white on top of his head. He even wore reading glasses.

_There was nothing to be afraid of._

"All right, Lindsay," he stayed leaned back in his seat. "Do you have anything you want to talk about today?"

Of course she did. She couldn't face her daughter—couldn't look at her, couldn't touch her—even as her arms and her heart longed to do so. It hurt her. She wanted Danny to know that as well. It just hurt.

But she couldn't say it. Not yet.

She couldn't remember the face or the _message_ of a murderer, even when she stared into the mirror and could almost see the words written across her forehead, where it was still slightly scratched from his writing.

She heard the ticking of the clock and turned her head to look at the aged wall clock Dr. Thurman had brought from his grandfather's in Germany. She stared at it, and willed the ticking to stop.

She was trying. She was trying to remember. Everyday Danny asked her, and looked at her as if he was tired of her, but maybe she was projecting again, like she had back in Montana with her parents and the police. She'd done that before. Mac and Stella and Flack, they all tried to talk to her. She knew she looked like this, unresponsive, but she was trying, she really was. She just couldn't get around whatever wall held her back.

She stared at the clock, afraid of the ticking. Time was just passing away.

"Lindsay," he said her name patiently, but she knew he'd been calling her back for awhile. "I removed the batteries. It's not ticking this time."

* * *

Danny sat in Stella's office as he closed his phone. Leaning his head back, he sighed.

Across from him, Stella frowned. "Is everything alright?"

He wanted to lie about it all over again, or rather, leave out all the details. How do you talk about your wife to your coworkers who are her coworkers, your friends, who are her friends. He even had a hard time with Lindsay's mother, who knew more about the situation than even he did. And it seemed wrong to tell his mother more than he had to, even as she kept Kaley for the majority of the last 9 days.

"Yeah. My mother's going to drop Kaley off this afternoon so she can play cards with her friends. My mom, not Kaley," _obviously_. "So Kaley can see her mother. So Lindsay can …"

"Lindsay's still …"

See—even Stella couldn't put the words together. This woman that inhabited his wife's body, wasn't Lindsay.

"Maybe a little more contact will help her. It just worries me how Kaley perceives it."

"You and Lindsay have done a phenomenal job raising that little girl, Danny. She feels safe and protected. When this is all over, she won't remember any of it."

"You sure about that?"

Stella hesitated, and just shrugged. His voice had been tight, angry. He leaned forward and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "I'm sorry, it's just …"

Maybe it was time to share the load just a little.

* * *

The ticking stopped. The room went quiet. She turned and looked back at him, desperate.

He smiled a little. "No, you're not crazy."

_She'd asked him that before._

"You're feeling the pressure, aren't you?"

She closed her eyes, fighting against the sudden need to cry. Dr. Thurman simply waited her out, waited until she could look at him again.

"I reviewed your file from Montana again, like you asked me to. You are doing better this time around," he leaned forward and shifted through papers on his desk. "Still no sleep walking?"

Lindsay shook her head. At least, she didn't think so. "Danny hasn't found me sleeping in the closet. _Yet_."

"See, you still have your sense of humor. You're eating, still."

_Methodically_. Danny would place the food in front of her, and she would eat. She didn't taste it. She just did what she was told to do.

When she realized she had only thought it, and not said it, she relayed the information to Dr. Thurman.

"There's just …" she stopped herself and watched Dr. Thurman's eyebrows rise as he waited. "I take the pictures in our house down and turned them around. I remember doing it. I see myself doing it, and I can't help myself. Danny comes in every time and makes a joke of it, like I'm trying to play memory games or give myself exercise. He tries, but I can see … it bothers him."

"Is there something in the photos that you're afraid of? Someone?"

"Just my family—and I'm not afraid of my family."

"But you're afraid for them. Or maybe you don't want them touched by what you know. Can you remember why?"

She tried, she really did. Her fingers dug further into the leather chair.

"Don't force yourself, Lindsay. Just let it come."

"You say that as if I can just flip a switch," the words came out bitterly—more than she'd intended.

He nodded, uneffected. "I know you can't find the switch, but it's there." He waited patiently, then slowly stood. "Let's try our other exercises."

Brain games. The _exercises_, as he called them, only made her feel like she belonged in a mental facility. Maybe she should just go join her old friend Rose.

* * *

Danny told Stella about the pictures, she listened, the worry clear on her face.

"I can watch Kaley tonight if you need me to."

For a moment, he looked ready to accept the offer, but in the end he only shook his head. "Kaley needs to be around her mother, around me and some sense of normalcy. Her shrink thought it might help."

"Danny."

"I know—her doctor. Her psychiatrist. He just hasn't done anything for her."

"Hasn't he? You said yourself that Lindsay thinks he's going to be able to help her."

"I just wish I understood, that _I _could help her. She lets me touch her, but she doesn't sleep. She wanders the night through the house as if she's afraid to sleep, as if he doesn't believe I can protect her. Even her shrink—sorry, _psychiatrist_, has tried to get her into a relaxed state, and he can't," he worried over it. "I see a piece of Lindsay when I go with her and drop her off. She pumps herself up, assures herself that there will be a break through, but she leaves … frustrated, angry. Depressed."

His phone beeped then and he stood, looking at the message. "Adam's done with the DNA samples we sent in this morning."

"Danny—if you change your mind, I'd love to have Kaley for the evening."

After he walked out the door, Stella turned to her computer and pulled up her email. She smiled a little when she saw the reply. In New York, you could find someone, somewhere, that could handle what you needed. It gave her hope that this Dr. Thurman could work wonders with Lindsay.

* * *

Danny opened the front door to his daughter. "Kaley!" he summoned and smiled as she leaned forward and into his arms. He peppered her face with smacking kisses as she giggled.

Years ago, he would have scoffed if someone told him he would respond such as this, but no one had ever captured his heart quite like his daughter.

"Where's …" his mother stopped from finishing the statement in an attempt to talk around Kaley.

"In the kitchen."

"Does she?"

_Know that Kaley's coming?_

"Yes."

Either it was the look on Danny's face, or his tone, but his mother simply nodded. "Just call if you need me," she reached out a hand and squeezed his arm, leaving her hand there for a moment. "I'm hoping you won't."

He nodded and watched his mother walk away. When she got in her car and lifted her hand in a wave, Danny nodded. It was time to face the battle.

He closed the door and it was as if a switch turned on in Kaley's mind. "Mommy!"

Danny turned, expecting Lindsay to be standing there, waiting. Instead, his daughter had already started searching her out. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Mommy will be here soon, sweetheart," he said, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

He set her down on the floor near her box of toys, but instead of going for them, she looked around, than began to toddle around. She was looking for Lindsay. She was looking for her mommy.

He didn't know what to do. There was that war inside of him to follow Lindsay's lead, and one who wanted to fight for his daughter. For his family. He picked her up, put her in her bouncing chair, and touched a finger to her nose.

Then, he went into the kitchen. Lindsay was standing at the counter, her head bowed, her fingers clutching the counter's rim. Her knuckles were white.

"Kaley's looking for you."

She nodded, focusing her breaths.

He reached out, spun her around. Her eyes opened in surprise. Panicked.

"She needs you."

"I … can't," her voice shook.

His hands trembled on her arms. He wanted to shake her, or do more.

And he couldn't.

He released her, and stared at her, fighting the temptation to shake it out of her. He took a step back.

"Find a way."

He turned. Walked out. The back door slammed behind him as he left Kaley in the hands of her mother.

.

Something inside Lindsay broke. Her hands trembled. She couldn't live like this. She couldn't expect her daughter and husband to live like this.

She turned, opened one kitchen drawer, than another, seeing spoons and forks. Not what she needed.

It took several tries, but she finally found the right drawer, the same drawer as always. Her hands shook as she pushed aside the junk until her hands closed around the little voice recorder.

She could hear her daughter laughing as she played with her jumper. The squeaks and squeals fascinated her even now. Lindsay moved to the side of the kitchen, so she could see her through the doorway, so Kaley could see her in return.

She sang their song, a song her grandmother and mother sang to her, holding the voice recorder up to record. Her voice shook a little, then more as she forced the tune out. Kaley's eyes locked on hers and she squealed.

"Mommy loves you," she ended and watched her daughter's eyes light up.

.

Danny stood outside taking deep breaths. He knew Lindsay was doing her best. He knew it wasn't her fault. It was his responsibility to be the bridge.

Wouldn't she do the same thing for him?

But he took his time.

And then he heard it. The sound of a car engine starting up.

_Their car_.

He spun around and ran into the house. Kaley still sat in her jumper. He couldn't leave her to chase after her mother. When Kaley saw her father, she squealed. In her hand was a little black something. She pounded it against her jumper.

"Kaley," he walked over, reached for it before he realized what it was. "What you got there?"

But his voice shook.

"Mommy loves you," Kaley said, repeating the litany from her mother.

"Mommy loves who?" He swallowed against the lump in his throat as he took the voice recorder, knowing Lindsay had gone. He pulled out his cell phone.

"Me!" Kaley said the word with delight. Everything suddenly seemed right in her world.

He stared at the voice recorder and listened to the song as he hit speed dial on his phone. Lindsay sang to their daughter, but he could hear the fear in her voice.

It was his fault. He had to find her.

* * *

_Note: Did anyone catch the reference to another certain story?_

_Wow … I didn't think I could get this one out. It was a toughy and I hope I caught all the mistakes, but I had to stop reading through it because I kept adding to it ... and adding isn't always good! By the way, your reviews really helped out by pushing me on and I appreciate them. Thanks so much for your support. Life's crazy right now, so they push me a little harder to work for you! Sound like a presidential speech, doesn't it? Or at least a mayoral speech. :p_

_Note: Sorry, Lily moonlight. I know I promised a Stella/Mac conversation, but Danny needed her more than Mac did—so Mac's scene unfortunately got cut._


	7. Chapter 7: Deceased

_The following characters are not mine, belong to CSI NY creators, blah blah blah blah blah. Warning, this chapter is why I have it labeled T—for the murders themselves. It's not graphic at all, but just … well, you've seen Lindsay's reaction. It's kind of like in Admissions where someone says 'you have to be sick to think of this' and well, the writers did think of it … so does that make them sick? Anyway, I'm not sure how I did with this chapter. It was a struggle to write, so I would love reviews … and any suggestions to make it better if you have them. Seriously, that's why I write here. Note: A 10-7 stands for Deceased. It fit, so I kept that code as the title._

_And I can't remember if I replied back to all the reviews from the last chapter. I think I did. If not, I'm really sorry. I've been grading essays and tests and my brain is fried. The reviews were all appreciated very much!! Thank you, even more so if I missed you._

* * *

Deceased

Chapter 7:

It wasn't until night settled over the city that her car was located, parked outside the hotel where she had originally been abducted. It was luck really, as the cop who had been ready to call it in to be towed had recognized the tag from the police bulletin.

Danny carried the voice recorder with him as he walked the street. Lindsay hadn't just left Kaley a message, a song, and the little "loves who" ritual. She'd left him a message as well.

_Danny, please don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I love you._

Her voice had broken slightly on the word _love_, and he couldn't help but remember how rough his hands had been on her, how frustrated he must have seemed. He'd pushed her to go out on her own, to do this on her own.

And now, she was alone.

She was gone.

* * *

It was into the next morning before they finally got a trace on Lindsay's phone. The signal came in clear, out of their district. The long line of hapless houses were vacant, being restored or marked to be restored. Flack and Hawkes reached the street first, met up with the men from the area precinct.

Outside the darkened residence, Hawkes stepped up beside Flack and pulled his own weapon. The paint was pealing around the doorway, as if someone had brought in an oversized cheese grater. The porch beneath their feet creaked.

They each took one side of the door as Flack knocked.

"NYPD!"

No one answered. The house was quiet. The only thing that showed anyone inside was a flickering of light from the far window.

Flack looked toward him and nodded. He twisted the knob and it opened.

_Too easy_, Hawkes thought. His heart thumped, because there was fear—he didn't want to walk in and find Lindsay as he'd found so many other nameless victims.

"Lindsay?" Flack called out as he stepped through the doorway, and turned, panning the way with his gun.

Hawkes went in and turned the other way. He looked back at Flack, who nodded toward the open door and the flickering light.

And there was Lindsay, lying out on the floor, papers strewn around her.

"Lindsay!" Hawkes rushed forward with Flack, stepping around the candles that were around her. He knelt down, carefully ran his hands over her, checking for injury.

"Hawkes?" She blinked as he helped her sit up. "Danny?"

"He's with Mac. They're on their way. You really scared him, Linds," He looked in her eyes, checked her pulse. She looked dazed, almost shocky. Confused. He looked over at Flack who had knelt down beside them. "Lindsay … do you know what happened? Why you're here? Did someone bring you here?"

"Yes, I mean … no—no, I came." she shook her head. "It's all right. I came here. I had to come here.

"Why?"

She stared at him, her expression blank.

"Hawkes—" Flack had turned and was using his pen to move the papers that were on the floor. "Lindsay, did you write this?"

He glanced down at the papers—nearly a half dozen sheets with scrawling writing, but definitely Lindsay's familiar handwriting.

"Yes …" the word came out hesitant, slow, but even as it did, Hawkes watched the fight come back into Lindsay's eyes. He reached out, ran a finger over her pale cheek.

"It's what he … what he said. I had to get it out."

Hawkes pulled on a pair of gloves and reached for one of the sheets. "What is it?"

"It's a list," Flack looked up, horror in his eyes as he met Sheldon's gaze. "Of murders."

* * *

They took her to the hospital, even though she told them she was fine. She felt … empty. Simply emptied, except now the wall was gone. She knew now what was behind it, and knew why she'd mentally put it up.

The images flashed. Images her own imagination had created for her, images from past cases; of little girls. Of death. Of children.

Of murder.

It was there, as she sat alone on the exam room table, that Danny caught up with her.

He opened the curtain and stepped in, stopped to just look at her. There was worry in his eyes. Whatever impatience, anger that she expected, wasn't there. She'd left Kaley again. She'd believed he wouldn't understand. Not really.

"They showed you the list," she could tell by the look in his eyes.

"Yeah. Flack thought I should know before I saw you. Are you all right?"

"Not really," she held his gaze. "I'm over here and you're over there, and I've really missed you."

He didn't fly toward her and scoop her up, but that wasn't Danny. The swagger in the short step and the knowing smile. Now that was Danny.

As he slid his arms around her, she simply sighed and rested against him. "It all makes sense to me now, why I shut it out, why I couldn't look at Kaley. What was holding me back. Danny—it wasn't that I didn't want to hold her, it was fear. I couldn't put the two together."

He ran a hand over the back of her head. "I don't think you're supposed to."

"You can't imagine how much I want to hold her right now."

She felt his lips smile against her hair, even as a warm breath of relief escaped him. "I'll take you home. She's waiting on you."

"Mac's going to need to talk to me."

She winced as an image flashed. Of a little girl, in a pink coat. Blond hair, blue eyes. Her cheeks would have been rosy, if not claimed by death.

Lindsay tightened her grip on Danny, held on. She needed him to steady her.

"He can come to us this time. He'll understand."

She shook her head, fighting against another image, of another little girl. If she let go, the images would just flow out of her, all over again.

"I don't want to take this into my home. I don't want it there, with her, with our memories. With Kaley."

"Is that why you left?"

"Maybe, I don't know. I couldn't open them there," she leaned back, just enough to see his face. She reached up and traced a finger over the stubble on his chin. "I don't always have answers for … this. I just know that back in Montana, after the murders and the mothers … they just reacted. All that emotion. The sadness, the fear, the anger. Most of it probably wasn't directed at me, but it felt like … it was just too much.

"I just pushed it all back. I couldn't … _deal_ with it. I told myself I was fine. But the police needed me to remember, and my parents, they were so freaked. I realized I wasn't myself anymore. I was a shell."

"Did you leave then, too?"

She nodded, reaching for his hands with each of her own. "I think I had to. They had insulated me and it just wouldn't open. I couldn't get passed the wall. So I snuck out of the house, took my dad's truck, and headed into town. They found me before the diner opened the next morning, standing on the sidewalk looking in. I'd been there for hours. I had to return there. I had to face it."

"Why that house? Where they found you tonight? Mac said we didn't have a case on record there. Have you ever been before?"

"I don't remember," she frowned over it, "I went into the suite where he said … I remembered the street, the numbers. I didn't recognize it. So I got a taxi, let them take me there …One of the little girls is there Danny … she's at that house."

"I'll tell Mac. What else?"

"I wrote it down," she shook her head. "There may be more. I don't know. I just … can we start this with Mac? I don't want to have to say it more than once."

"All right. Are you ready?"

"Just one thing. When I blocked it all before, I shut everything out. The images, the sounds. The feelings I had for my friends. When it opened … that's when the nightmares began again. I don't want to face those again, Danny. Like that, like before."

He simply drew her close and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. "You're not alone, Lindsay."

"But—"

"Lindsay, I can take your nightmares. I survived the days of Kaley waking us up at all hours more than you ever have with your nightmares. I've got a pretty tough shell."

Lindsay rolled her eyes, and smiled just a little. No he didn't. Kaley's tears and cries still freaked him out.

"Just don't …"

"What?"

"Start any karate lessons until we work this out."

* * *

Lindsay sat down in the interview room with Danny at her side. He took her hand and she held on as she looked around. It was different, for some reason, being in here like this. It was her choice, of course. Mac had offered his office, had even recommended that they meet in Dr. Thurman's office.

But she'd wanted it as clean and clear as possible.

Mac sat down across from her and set a tape recorder on the table between them. She stared at the simple device, and then turned her brown eyes toward the two way mirror. On the other side, she knew Dr. Thurman watched. He wasn't just there for her benefit. He was a scholar, he was a researcher. He wanted to see how she broke the pattern.

Still, he'd approached her as she'd come to the station, and in his eyes she saw hope. He wanted her to have this break through. She just hoped that he was prepared for what she remembered. No one should have to deal with the death of a child.

"Lindsay."

She turned her eyes to find Danny's steady gaze on her. His fingers tightened on hers. "You ready?"

She nodded and then turned to face Mac.

"Where do you want to start, Lindsay?"

She frowned over it, and slowly licked her lips. "I don't know."

"How about you tell me what happened the day you received this message. He took you from the crime scene."

She could see it, the darkness that surrounded her as she slowly came awake. She'd blinked, felt her hands bound. Even now, her fingers flexed around Danny's.

There, silhouetted in the light of the terrace he stood. He wore a jacket, a cap. She could remember nothing else.

She described the scene with little emotion. The words just came out, one after the other.

"He started describing the … what he'd done. He went one child at a time. He gave locations, how he'd found them, and why. Then he told what he did to them. The first one, blue eyes, blond hair. She had pigtails and a pink coat," she described the murder. There were little details other than what she'd written down. "He was so passionate, so … devoted. He knew … he didn't …"

She shook herself and went through what she remembered as if it were a list. As she talked, Mac sorted through the papers where she'd originally written the details down with a quick scrawl as they'd poured out of her memory. She didn't really remember writing all of it, she just remembered starting.

Then she'd fallen asleep. No first, she'd switched on her phone. She'd known they'd find her. She'd known Danny would come.

She hadn't had any energy to do anything else. She'd just fallen into a deep sleep, into safety. That had been her last thought.

"Lindsay?"

She looked over at Danny, saw the concern in his eyes. She pushed back the weariness that had swamped her. "I don't remember much else … the last one I remember, when he said it, I thought of Kaley. Brown hair, brown eyes. It was her that I pictured. My baby. My little girl. I don't know if he said anything else, or went on with other children. I can't remember anything, beyond him saying those details, and I just …"

"Blocked the rest."

She nodded. "And then I woke up," she looked at Danny. "And you were there."

Danny wrapped his arm around her and drew her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The three of them sat in silence, Lindsay's words—and the horror of them—resonating in the stale room.

* * *

At the knock on the door, Mac nodded toward Danny and stood, switching off the recorder. He had more questions he needed to ask her. He needed to go back over the details and see if there was anything else she remembered. He would have to push her, and when he did, he knew he was going to have to go up against Danny.

He didn't mind though. Danny would only voice a mirror of Mac's own thoughts.

He'd already matched up three murders that they had worked over the last two months to the information on Lindsay's list. From their dates of death, Lindsay's list seemed to be in order. Others to be found, three that fell before the ones they had already matched, and one that was between those they'd matched.

He'd looked at the photographs from the scene, just to refresh his memory, and put himself in Lindsay's place. She had it all in her head, interwoven with her natural mother instinct.

Stella was at the door. He stepped out, recognized the look in her eyes.

"Flack called. They found the body," she closed her eyes and he reached out to rub a hand on her shoulder. "Lindsay was right. The little girl was there, still in her pink coat, buried in the back yard."

* * *

_Did you think the deceased actually referred to Lindsay? If you know me, you know she's not one I would intentionally kill off. I almost didn't use it, because I didn't want you to think that … then I realized, what would it hurt if you do? :p_


	8. Chapter 8: Back in Service

_The following characters are not mine. They belong to CSI NY creators. I honestly didn't think this chapter would ever be written. It just didn't seem to have focus. Actually, what it was missing was words. Lots and lots of words that ran away to some dark compartment somewhere and didn't want to be found. They are now imprisoned here for you to read :p Read at your own risk (ha ha). _

_Note: A 10-8 stands for Back in Service._

* * *

Back in Service

Chapter 8:

Turning off all the lights down stairs, Danny started to head up. On the way, he passed a picture on the wall he'd missed that was still turned around. He took it down and turned it over to study it for a moment. It was of Lindsay as a little girl, on her ranch with one of the horses. She had a child sized Stetson on her head and her brown eyes were alight with possibilities.

Kaley looked so much like her.

He hung the picture, and continued up the stairs, negotiating his way through the tall safety gate and then into Kaley's room. Lindsay was still with her. They'd been laughing, playing, and touching, the way they had so naturally since her birth. He'd brought food to them and they shared a little picnic together on the floor in the living room. That was hours ago.

It was quiet now. As he stepped in, Lindsay was in the rocking chair with a sleeping Kaley in her arms. The picture of them together, especially after the last few days, was heart breaking. Mother, cradling daughter, as she had so many times before. Still, Lindsay stared straight ahead, fighting sleep. Fighting her demons.

He walked over and bent to kiss her on the top of the head, brushing back her hair gently. "Come on, Montana."

She smiled weakly and ran her fingertips over Kaley's head. "I can't let her go."

"She'll be here in the morning."

"She grows up so fast."

"Not by the morning."

Lindsay looked up and gave him a small smile. It didn't reach her eyes. She relinquished Kaley reluctantly when he took her. When he lay his little girl down in her bed, Lindsay stepped up beside him. Together they watched her sleep by the light from the hallway, just letting the quiet of the night pass.

Finally, Lindsay reached down and moved Kaley's little rabbit over into the crook of Kaley's arm. Then she reached up and gently brushed back her soft hair, whispering, "Mommy loves you."

Danny reached out and took her hand, slowly drawing her from the room.

She was reluctant, even then, but it wasn't until they reached the doorway to their bedroom that she froze. He felt the trembling in her hand. He turned around, brought his hands up to either side of her face, drawing her eyes toward his own.

"I can't do this, Danny. I can't go to sleep." She was too tired to do anything else, too tired to fight.

"I'm going to be with you. I'm not going to leave you," he gave her an easy smile. "If you need to, we'll make a little bed in the closet and snuggle up together."

She rolled her eyes, drawing his attention to the moisture that had pulled there. After her friend's murder, her mother would find her sleeping in her closet, sometimes with clothes pulled down on top of her.

"Or we can go down stairs, sleep on the sofa, with all the pictures turned around backwards."

She sighed and reluctantly met his gaze, but there was a glimmer of a smile—a glimmer of both the fighter and the laughter he knew were part of Lindsay.

"If there are any other options—"

"Just hold onto me, Danny."

He drew her into the room, into his arms. "That, I can do."

* * *

Lindsay walked into the kitchen the next morning, ready for work. Kaley was already there, seated at the table eating pancakes that had been cut into bite sized pieces—the syrup was already on her face and hands, and probably in her hair. Danny set down two plates on the table and walked over toward her. As he had a later shift, he wore sweat pants and a loose t-shirt. After two fierce nightmares, she hadn't expected him looking so refreshed, with breakfast finished. She'd been prepared to rush out the door.

She realized then she'd stopped in the doorway. He reached out and tipped up her chin and for a moment their eyes connected. It was like she was shot with life saving voltage, bringing her heart back to life. She knew him, better than anyone. She knew that face, that heart, she knew his dreams. She knew his dreams had changed over the time they'd known each other.

He was hers.

His eyes drew that something-something from deep inside, reminding her that this was her family. This was their moment.

All within that split second, what she hadn't realized had turned shaky again, settled.

He gently pressed his lips to hers and stepped back.

"What did I tell you, Kaley?" Danny walked over to the table and sat down at his spot. "Mommy thought she was going to skip breakfast so she could get into work extra early. Kaley and I thought we would encourage you to stick around a bit longer."

Kaley laughed and clapped her hands together. "Daddy p'akes, Mommy."

She reached to double check her gun, then remembered that Make had taken it, along with her badge. She would get her badge back today. It would allow her some access to crime scenes and official offices and meetings, but some things would be off limits.

And so would her weapon.

Dr. Thurman would have to clear her first.

Lindsay went to Kaley first, gave her a smacking kiss, and then quickly tickled her.

"You taste like pancakes," Lindsay teased as Kaley giggled.

Kaley reached her syrup covered fingers to her plate and picked up a piece and offered it.

"Daddy's p'cakes."

"No," as Lindsay sat down, she reached across the table and took Danny's plate, switching it with her own as he watched with that knowing Messer grin. "These are Daddy's pancakes."

"Hey! You won't eat all that."

She grinned at him, and the relief of normalcy washed over her. "Wanna bet? I'm starved."

.

Across from her, Danny watched his two girls. Kaley didn't seem to be any worse for wear. When he'd retrieved her singing, from her room, she'd asked if Mommy would join them today for breakfast, but other than that, she seemed happy and settled.

Together they'd decided that they'd make Lindsay pancakes so she wouldn't be able to resist. Mommy loved pancakes, especially with chocolate ships—according to Kaley. Danny had pulled out the chocolate chips.

Still, Lindsay drenched the tall stack with the syrup she ordered over the internet from a Montana company. It was really sweet and thick. Danny gave her the required look of horror, but it felt good to be normal.

She was making an effort, he knew, for Kaley and for him. There was a war going on inside of her. She didn't want to leave. And there was a part of her that had to. Stay with her daughter, seek justice. Love unconditionally. Fight. Both were Lindsay.

* * *

If Lindsay had of expected anything her first day back, she didn't get anything that matched the feeling she was prepared to face. It wasn't a moment she could see and know. It was just a gnawing in her gut, as if there was something waiting, darkly in the background.

When she first arrived to work, she had to meet with Mac. It would take time for her to receive full freedom within the lab. Dr. Thurman would have to sign off on the return of her badge and the return of her gun. She would be off the streets and off the case or cases that cycled around the bodies as they found them.

It wasn't the arrival of the bodies, or knowing that they were in autopsy. It wasn't knowing she hadn't made the horrid details up. Even though they didn't—wouldn't—discuss the case with her, she knew by the look in their eyes that it was all true. They were finding them. Children. Little girls with their lives cut short and their families devastated.

She cleared her desk about a week in. She'd done all she'd been given the rights to do. She took out her badge, traced the gold shield, then the numbers. It was hers, her weapon against that darkness that had been inside of her for so long.

Her fingers curled into her palms. She needed to know more.

She paged Danny and told him to meet her in the conference room, then found the files to a few of the cases. When Danny arrived, she had the photos spread on the table.

"Montana, what are you doing?"

"I don't know," she stared at the photos, sorting through the short stack of the crime scene she hadn't visited, but knew about. She slapped her badge down on the conference room table, her gaze steady as she looked back at him.

"I can't stay away from this Danny. There a part of me that needs to put the pieces together."

He sat down beside her. She knew he was debating whether fighting over it was the right strategy.

She turned to him and took his hand. "This is the job—this isn't the nightmare."

He nodded, and she saw that he seemed to understand. He reached out and traced his fingers over her hand that still rested on her badge, then scooted a little closer and reached for the files, going over them with her. Going over details.

Her mind worked around them, filing them, sorting.

Lindsay didn't look up until the conference room door opened and Flack stepped in.

Flack looked from Danny to Lindsay, and frowned over the files that were spread out over the table. He'd come to find Danny, she could tell—to talk about this case. She lifted a brow. "You're going to have to talk about it at some time around me. I have to know."

"It's just …" Flack hesitated and looked first to Danny, though he received nothing. It made Lindsay smile.

"We just finished interviewing the parents of one Madison James, a little three year old girl that was admitted to the hospital two nights ago, having survived an abduction attempt the same night," he tapped his finger on the table as he sat down across from them. "She matches the profile of a girl on your list. Two from the bottom."

"He's not finished," Danny said.

"No. Hawkes and I put it together yesterday. The last little girl we found was killed this week. It seemed the murders were getting closer together, but still happened after Lindsay was taken and given the information. So we ran a check."

"He wants us to stop him," she said. "Classic psycho-killer inner struggle. He has it all planned out. All the steps. Who he wants, where he's going to commit the murder. He wants us to stop him before he does it again."

"So what do we do? Tell all the parents of the little girls in New York to keep them inside?" Danny asked.

"We stop him," Flack answered. It was obviously the only answer he had.

* * *

When Lindsay left after her shift, the unsettled feeling in her stomach had strengthened. She'd dropped by Dr. Thurman's office to check in and to share the information, but it didn't cause any tremors or blanking out. It didn't cause a panic attack.

He was helpful, however, in working with her to create a profile of the killer, one he'd already shared in part with Mac.

Lindsay ran it through her head as she rode the commuter train home. It worried her. Not because they hadn't been able to stop him yet. Not because …

She sighed. It was just going to run through her head, over and over again until the pieces were in place.

She stood as the train pulled away from a stop, unable to sit still as her thoughts circled.She braced herself against the rocking of the train, and held onto one of the braces. It was a movement she loved, something she'd only experienced in New York.

But even still, she wanted to be home.

She would set it aside for the evening. Enjoy her daughter. She reached up to fiddle with her locket as she thought of Kaley, but it wasn't there around her neck. It hadn't been since …

Since she'd been taken.

She stared out the window of the moving train, feeling the car closing in around her.

The image flashed of the man in the shadows, swinging the locket on its chain, back and forth … back and forth as he talked. As he went through his list.

As he made plans for his last kill.

* * *

_Dun dun dun. I had that one up my sleeve since I went back and added the locket to the storyline :p ... I have been so waiting to get here. Please review--it would make my day and might help me get the next chapter out!  
_

On an side note, it seemed the preference of other writers (several) that Danny must be able to make good pancakes--so I went with that in fanfic tradition.


	9. Chapter 9: Repeat Last Message

_The following characters are not mine. They belong to CSI NY creators. _

_Thank you so much for the previous reviews. They were awesome! Thanks for supporting this story. I didn't think I'd ever get this chapter written! My muse apparently went on vacation (actually, I think she was having a fight with the muse Cleo, the muse of history--as that's where all my focus has been). Anyway, it's finally here. Note: A 10-9 stands for __Repeat last message__. Only one more to go._

* * *

Repeat Last Message

Chapter 9:

"Montana, what is it?" Glancing over at Mac, Danny stepped out of the apartment and the crime scene and tried to hear over the noise.

"He said … your mother. Kaley —"

"What?"

"He has my locket, Danny."

The words washed over him. He didn't need an explanation. The last description …

"The last girl, it's Kaley. Brown hair, brown eyes. Blue hat. I forgot. He said blue hat. He had my locket in his hand. He knows about her."

Baseball cap, on backwards, big brown eyes like her mother's. Danny could see the image as if he held the locket. He had his own picture in his wallet.

"Where are you?" he turned and found that Flack had stepped out, was standing behind him. He urged Flack to follow him with a jerk of his head, and took the stairs down two at a time.

"On the train, nearly home. Danny, I can't reach your mother."

"It's alright," even though it wasn't—not until he had Kaley in his arms. He hit the door on the ground floor at a run, stopping only when he reached the passenger's side of the Flack's car. "You know ma's not all that handy with her cell. Just go home, get Kayle and Ma, and go somewhere safe. Just go. Flack and I are on our way."

"Danny—"

"Hold tight Montana," it wasn't just Kaley he thought of, but Lindsay. He pictured her they way she'd looked that first night he'd brought her home, when she'd turned away from her family, looking so lost and alone. Vulnerable. Lying there on their bed in one of his t-shirts.

The way she'd looked when they'd found her, hands bound, pale.

Looking empty.

"It's going to be all right. We're on our way."

* * *

Lindsay nearly stumbled out the door of the station and into the dying light of the day. Someone pushed passed her, making her side step. She slipped between an incoming couple and then stopped, refocusing on where she'd left her car.

She'd headed in early that morning, but it hadn't been that early. The parking spaces near the front had been taken. She weaved through the cars, then stopped and stared as she cleared the row. Beyond, she saw her car, and the tires.

Slashed.

"No…" the word trembled from her lips.

She dashed forward, barely fazed by the squeal of tires.

"Lady!" came the angry reply. The burly man in the rocking red convertible scowled at her.

"I'm not a lady," Lindsay whipped her badge off her belt and flashed it as she went around to the side if his car. "I'm a mother and a cop and I need to get home."

"You're asking me to drive you?"

"No, I'm telling you," Lindsay opened the car door and slipped in. "Please."

* * *

Flack closed his cell phone as he wove through traffic, his lights blaring. "Local police dispatched a car over to your house and one to your mother … if he's already made a move…"

Danny felt his jaw tighten as he looked out the window, scowled at the car that refused to obey basic emergency procedure and move over. His fingers closed over his phone. He felt it vibrate even as it rang.

"Lindsay."

"Danny the … left …"

Her voice was scattered, broken by static.

But he heard the grate of panic. "I can't hear you."

"We …" more static and he lost the call completely.

"Lindsay?"

* * *

As he pulled up in front of her house, Lindsay already had her door open and was ready to run. "Thanks, thank you."

"Yeah, next time you want to take a hostage, you find yourself some other…"

Lindsay ignored him as she ran to the side door. As she reached it, she stopped, put her hand to the knob. Her fingers trembled as she turned it.

At the site of Danny's mother pushing up from the floor, Lindsay rushed in. Her frightened eyes looked up and met Lindsay's. "Lindsay, there's a …"

"Get outside. Now …"

Lindsay stepped around her and went first into their office. In the closet, she pulled down Danny's lock box. She worked the numbers, then set it on the floor, taking out a small pistol.

And then she headed up.

* * *

"Danny?"

"Ma?" The static was heavy, but he could hear the panic. "What—Ma, I couldn't here you.

_Except Lindsay. He'd heard her say Lindsay._

"A man, in the house. Lindsay's went after him."

Danny glanced over at Flack.

"Stay outside," he moved with the car as Flack careened around a curve.

A mile. He had less than a mile.

"We're almost there."

* * *

Gun in hand, Lindsay swung around the corner, and found the room clear. She turned up the stairs. She would be taking them alone.

But there was no question. She was going up.

She went up carefully, despite her instincts. Near the top, she saw the shadow. He leaned outside Kaley's door, looking in.

She stopped.

"NYPD. Stay right there."

He turned around, the man of her nightmares. The dark eyes and long face. She saw him now, standing in the shadows, swinging the locket, back and forth.

"Well, looks like you finally snapped out of your little stupor." He laughed, wickedly. The sound echoed down the stairs. He wore a long, dark coat. Held a knife in one hand, a long pistol in the other. "I really thought you had potential. That you could save me."

"Don't move," she narrowed her gaze. "Put down the gun."

He turned it over, holding it level so he could still shoot. "Now, why would I do that?"

She flashed again as she remembered him talking, going through his list as his silhouette form was replaced by images he described. Children. Death.

"You wanted me to stop you."

"Someone needs to, but I can't do it. I've tried. I just can't … stop. Don't you see it? There's beauty in life, in death. Nothing more powerful than a child. It shouldn't be that way, should it? But there's such beauty. Picture it with me."

"You're sick."

"That's what they say," he took a step toward her. "I looked you up, Mrs. Messer. From Montana. You suffered a horrible crime yourself, they say. Do you not feel the power of death?"

Her hand trembled as she was unable to stop his words from wrapping around her psyche. She couldn't fight it. She couldn't fight him. He'd somehow wound his way into part of her and she couldn't flesh him out.

_Help me._

"I should take you too. Mother, daughter. There's magic in that. I saw it in your eyes when I told you what I would do to your daughter."

Her breath stilled, caught in her throat. _No, no. Not again._

Sirens sounded in the distance. The flood of hope. She wasn't alone.

"Such a treasure, really. She'll be my finest work."

And there he made his mistake. He looked in, on his prey, drawn by his utter, sickened obsession. And his gun lowered.

"_Not my daughter_," Lindsay steadied her weapon.

The shot rang out, with absolute purpose.

Lindsay turned, as the shot hadn't been fired by her.

And found Danny's mother there, slowly lowering her own small hand piece. There was a determined glint in her eyes that Lindsay had seen before in Danny. There was something dark … as if she'd known darkness. And something sure and confident, in a way that was beyond even Lindsay.

She stepped forward and wrapped and arm around Lindsay, drawing her into the safety of her hold. "It's over, sweetheart."

"How…"

"It's over. It's over, Lindsay," she whispered, pressing a kiss to Lindsay's brow. "Go to Kaley. Go to Kaley, now."


	10. Chapter 10: The Tenth

_The following characters are not mine. They belong to CSI NY creators. _

_Note: Originally, I had a problem with this chapter … and then a few others. The most common meaning for 10-10 is Fight in Progress. But this was supposed to be just an epilogue. So I was going for the less common meaning of Off Duty. But then, the following scene popped into my head … and I wondered, why couldn't it be both. So here you go. ._

The Tenth

Chapter 10:

**_Fight in progress_**

When their statements were made and the police were gone, when the flashing lights and commotion faded from their neighborhood, when all the evidence had been collected from the site and Danny had taken his family over to his mother's for the night …

All of the fear and anger Danny had held in rushed to the surface. Their house was a crime scene. His home had been invaded, his wife, child and mother threatened.

They thought … he had no idea what they were or what they had been thinking.

He paced his mother's living room where they had come after putting Kaley to bed. Lindsay had stopped in the doorway. She rubbed her hands over her arms, as if she was cold, unsure. There was a depth of weariness in her eyes.

But as he looked at her, it all rose up. The thoughts, the feelings … everything that he had fought against in the long ride to their house.

And he turned on her. The words just poured out.

As she stared at him, those big brown eyes hardened.

"I was thinking of Kaley," she returned.

"And what would Kaley be without her mother?" he asked angrily. "Do you know what was going through my mind? You _knew_ what that man was capable of. You had it in your head. I watched it … _destroy _part of you. It—"

"Of _course_ I knew. I—" Lindsay eyes were hardened. "It was in _my_ head."

"Then maybe you don't remember what it _did_ to you."

"_Daniel Messer_. You've had your say," it was Danny's mother who chimed in that time.

He spun around, stared at her. For once, her withering glance did nothing to push him back. "Have I? Didn't I tell you to wait outside?"

"While the daughter of my heart and my granddaughter were inside that house? With _that_ man?"

"You could have been _killed_."

Mother and son stared at each other, hot tempers fired up from decades of practice. Normally, his mother wasn't someone Danny took on. Partly out of respect and partly because she had a look that disintegrated his bones.

"I've lived my life—" she snapped. "And you're underestimating me and Lindsay. Not because," she looked pointedly at him, "we went after him, but because we couldn't have stayed out of the way. Neither could you. Now get it together and do what you need to do for your family."

With that said, she walked past him with her head held high. Danny turned and watched her go, watched her head upstairs. The fight just left him, retreating … leaving him feeling foolish and alone.

It was then he realized Lindsay had gone.

* * *

Lindsay retreated to the backyard and stared at the little stone path. Just a few weeks ago, there had been a party here. Louie and his new girl friend, a few of Danny's aunts and uncles, great aunts and uncles, with Kaley at the center of attention. There had been so much life. So much laughter.

Kaley had walked along the stone path, taking long strides to step from stone to stone, barely keeping her balance, but giggling all the way.

A small smile on her lips, Lindsay stared at the path, remembering her daughter, remembering how Danny had swooped her up and into his arms when she reached his side.

She knew he was there, then, watching her from the house. She swallowed as the smile disappeared.

"If you've come to start yelling at me again, I really can't deal with it," she said without turning.

"No," she heard him approach, felt his hands on her shoulders, his long fingers closing in. "I'm sorry. You didn't do anything I wouldn't have expected you to do."

But she hadn't done it. She'd faltered. If it hadn't been for Danny's mother …

"Your mother's amazing."

"She is."

Lindsay smiled a little because she heard the underlying layer of trepidation in his voice. She turned around and looked up into those eyes—eyes that could hold every emotion possible with depth. Even now, the gentleness she saw in them drew her in, settled her heart.

"You left," it wasn't an accusation.

"I'm just tired."

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"I know. I know you didn't mean it."

He ran his fingers through her hair, searched her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She started to say yes, but the word couldn't come out. The image of the man flashed, standing there outside her daughter's bedroom.

_Do you not feel the power of death?_

She did. And she would have killed him. She'd raised her gun. It hadn't trembled, she remembered now.

Not until it was all over.

"_Lindsay_."

"I don't know. He was going to—"

"I _know_."

The words, the description, the nightmare the man had described to Lindsay was still in both their minds. It had already crippled her.

But it was over.

"I need to call Mac, though."

"What? Why?"

"I just want to make sure when he gets the footage at the train station to try and get the guy slashing your tires, that he gets enough so we can see a certain detective hijacking a helpless man in a car."

The startled laugh escaped before she could stop it. She pictured the man and the car and felt a wave of belated embarrassment wash through her.

"He wasn't helpless," she murmured as she slid her arms up and around his neck, "but you're going to be. Pretty soon."

"Oh really," he said slowly, dipping his head down, but stopping a breath before her lips …

"Just wait and see …" she murmured before sliding into the kiss.

. .

. .

_**Off Duty**_

_Two Weeks Later_

"Daddy!" Kaley jumped up and down so that her jumper squeaked as her father came into the kitchen. Lindsay turned, looked over her shoulder and smiled when he dipped down and lifted her out and into the air.

"I didn't think you were going to make it."

"For what?" Danny walked into the kitchen as he said the words and dipped immediately down to grab Kaley from her jumper.

"For dinner, such as it is," Lindsay glanced back at the cutting board and finished slicing tomatoes, but let out a squeal of her own—though more controlled than her daughters—as he wrapped a single arm around her and trailed a line of boisterous kisses up her neck. Behind them, Kaley giggled, lost in her own little world of play.

"And who're the people in the living room?

"That's Mike and his family," she nodded toward the kitchen window. "Their kids are out back."

"Mike?" With his arms around her, Danny leaned a little to look through the window at four boys, of differing ages, on his make-shift basketball court. "Oh, the guy you _hijacked_."

She smiled a little. "Something like that. You didn't get my message?"

With Kaley balanced on his hip he reached for his cell and flipped it open, only then noting the text message.

CMPNY 2NTE

CME HM IF PSSBLE

PLSE

"Exactly how big of a please is this?"

"Much more now that I know how big Mike's family is," she glanced over at him. "He dropped by this afternoon with his wife, wanted to make sure everything was okay—actually, I think she dropped by with him. They saw the footage of the arraignment and press conference last night. Apparently I've become quite the legend in his house. Someone who brought the mighty Mike to his knees. He has a big family of brothers who think it's the story of the century."

"See … you should have let me make a copy of it. We could pop it into the DVD player and—"

"You had your fun in the lab, Messer."

He grinned, that wickedly perfect Messer grin and with one hand to the other side of her head, drew her in and left a lingering kiss at her temple. "I suppose I should go make nice," he looked at Kaley, then back at Lindsay. "I owe him big."

"You do that—and fire up the grill. You're on burger duty tonight." Lindsay grinned. "And Danny—"

"yeah?"

"That's Mike and his family, his three brother's, two sisters, their family, your mother, Louie—"

"And let me guess—" he said, turning in the doorway, "Flack."

Lindsay shrugged. "Mike does have an eligible sister."

* * *

_There you go ... ten chapters with a focus on the number ten. If anyone is interested in using it again and going beyon the first ten, these codes go passed 100._

I've hope you've enjoyed this journey! Leave a review, please, and let me know what you think, thought or wished. I would love to hear from you! _Please? Pretty please? It would make my day!  
_


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